Is it Worth it?
by sugarhuney2
Summary: Romano is depressed and thinking about suicide. Can he be stopped in time? Rated M for graphic stuff, foul language, violence, and character death.
1. Second thoughts

**A/N: So I've been getting a lot of hate and disagreement and anger with my readers because of my misuse of names and a rushed storyline.**

**First off, I apologize for any inconvenience caused by these mistakes. I was a brand-new writer, this was my first story, and I guess I didn't really understand much about the show.**

**Second, I would like to ask for forgiveness. The first version of this story TRULY DID SUCK, and I apologize profusely for allowing all of you to read such an awful story!**

**Third, I edited the HECK out of this story. It's almost a completely new fic. I'm sorry if this inconveniences anyone.**

**Fourth, I'm sorry to everyone who waited and waited for a sequel, but, unfortunately, I will not be making one. I'm not sure if I'll reconsider this, but... Please don't get too mad at me.**

**Finally, I hope you enjoy reading the edited version FAR more than the first.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.**

**Anyway, I'm rating this T for: suicidal thoughts and actions, Romano's language, a bit of Spamano, and a suicide attempt.**

**/ / /**

_My name is Lovino Vargas. Better know as Romano, the southern half of Italy. The useless one. The one nobody loves._

_I've got an odd predicament. Something like this is truly rare... My case is that my younger brother is better than me. Better than me at everything. Odd, huh?_

_I can't do many things right, and what I __**can **__do right, my brother does better. It makes me angry to just think about it._

_Spain likes my brother better. I know this for a fact. He even tried swapping me with him at one point. I also know of this because Spain says, "Why can't you be more like your brother?" To me quite often... Well, quite often in my eyes anyhow._

_Feliciano was the only reason I'm still alive, I guess. I couldn't bear to think of him getting hurt, or having his heart broken by someone like that Potato Bastard... But, as years passed and I've dealt with my brother and Germany being together for so long, I've come to the conclusion that Germany would never hurt my brother. Well, he'd never hurt him __**intentionally**__, that is._

_Italy favors Germany so much that he even forgets about me sometimes. I guess I finally know how Canada feels..._

_It hurts, you know, being forgotten. It hurts to be unloved. And when I think about this, I consider suicide._

_Yeah, I know. Suicide is for cowards._

_The thing is, though... I __**am **__a coward._

_Yeah. I admitted it. So what? It's about time I left, anyway. Italy was unified years ago. Feli will be able to continue on his own with ease, as luck has always been on his side._

_I'm fairly certain that no one will miss me._

Romano put his pencil down. This might as well be the final entry in his journal.

He closed the journal and put it on top of his nightstand, leaving it in plain sight. This was as close to a will as it would ever get, so people might as well be able to read it.

Romano stood, then made his way out of his... _moderately _clean bedroom and into the living room. His brother was out with Germany, so he believed he would be undisturbed.

Romano walked down to the laundry room and grabbed the bottle of bleach he always made sure to have around. The jug was almost empty, but he was sure that what was left would be enough. He walked back upstairs, into the kitchen.

Romano set the bleach onto the counter, then searched that place underneath the sink where everyone always keeps plastic bags and cleaning products, for some lye... Or Drain-O. Whichever he managed to stumble upon first.

Once he got his hands on some lye, he put it on the counter next to the bleach. He grabbed a coffee cup and plastic spoon from the drainer, and he poured the rest of the bleach into the cup, filling it only a quarter of the way. The lye was poured in until the cup was filled halfway. Then we walked over to the sink and added a little water.

He stirred his little concoction with the plastic spoon. When finished, he threw the spoon away.

Romano stared at the cup for a good, long time.

Tears welled up in his eyes.

_'I... I don't want to die...' _He thought, then sniffled.

Romano let out a long, shaky breath, then sank to his knees, cup still in hand.

_'But I have to... It'll be better for everyone.'_

He sniffled again, then sobbed.

_**Creak.**_

_**Slam!**_

"Romano~! I'm hooome~!" His brother called.

Romano quickly wiped at his eyes, drying them with his sleeve. He then hid the cup under the sink.

"Romano?" Veniziano called.

"Hold on one damn second!" Romano snapped, then walked out into the living room. "What?" He asked. He was a little irritated with how his brother decided to come waltzing in at the worst time possible.

"Oh, I just wanted to know where you were! Hey... Why are your eyes all red and puffy? Were you crying?" Italy asked.

"No! It's just my damned allergies. My eyes have been watery all day!" Romano growled.

"Oh? I didn't know you had allergies, Romano." Italy said.

"Then that proves that we haven't been spending enough time together." Romano said.

"Oh..." Italy mumbled sadly, then cheered up quickly. "I'll make dinner tonight, then! What do you want?" He asked.

"I'll eat whatever you want to make." Romano said, hoping to make his brother happy once more.

Italy squealed, jumping up and down happily. "Oh! I know just what to make, then! I'm sure you'll love it!" He said, then ran into the kitchen.

Romano nodded. "I'll just... Be upstairs then." He said to empty air, then went to his bedroom.

Romano could hear his brother working in the kitchen, the clattering of a pan being put on the stove, the sound of vegetables being chopped, God, he loved it when his brother cooked. He also loved it when Spain cooked. He loved it when _he _cooked. Romano just flat out loved anything involved with cooking.

_'I could do something nice for him before I died... I could help him with the food!' _Romano thought, then something else popped into his mind.

_'If I act differently, Italy might suspect something... Yeah, he's Italy, but he can be sharp when he wants to be... I'd better not do anything.' _Romano decided.

/ / /

"So what did you think of dinner?" Italy asked.

"It was... good. Th-thanks..." Romano said, blushing furiously.

Italy tilted his head. "Fratello... Is something wrong?" He asked.

Romano shook his head. "No. I-I'm fine." He said.

Italy didn't look convinced, but went along with it. "Okay then. Oh, Lovino?" He asked.

Romano blinked. "Yes?"

"I'd like you to know, that if you have anything you want to tell me... I'll listen." Italy said.

Romano's face turned several shades redder.

_'FUCK! I've been caught!'_

His brother started to laugh. "Romano, you look like a tomato!"

Romano turned redder still. "D-don't start acting like Spain, _idiota_!" He yelled.

Italy laughed even harder.

_'Maybe not...!'_

A wave of disappointment washed over Romano for no appearant reason.

"W-whatever... J-just... Do you want to do anything?" Romano asked.

Italy calmed down, a big smile on his face. "Well, America's throwing this party..." He said timidly.

Romano sighed. "And I guess you're wanting me to go with you..." He said.

"I know you don't like those things, so you don't have to go if you don't want to..." Italy said.

"Would it make you... happy... if I went?" Romano asked.

Italy's face brightened up immediately. "Yeah!"

"Then... I guess I might go... But only for a little bit!" Romano said.

Italy's face brightened. "You will?! Thank you!" He squealed.

"Yeah, whatever. When are we going?" Romano asked.

"Just get dressed in something nicer and we'll leave right away!" Italy said.

Romano nodded and went up to his room.

He came back downstairs five minutes later wearing a red, long-sleeved dress shirt and black slacks.

"Is this what you want?" Romano asked.

"Yeah! You look amazing! Where did you get those?" Italy asked.

"Spain gave them to me a couple years ago... I thought I wore them a lot. I guess not, though."

Italy smirked and wiggled his eyebrows. "You got them from Spain, and you wear them a lot?" He asked.

"Sh-shut up! You bastard!" Romano snapped.

Italy laughed and ran outside before Romano could start choking him.

/ / /

"You're getting a bit better at driving. We managed to get here in just over an hour..." Romano mumbled.

"Ah! A complement from _fratello_! How rare! This is great! I'm going to have the best night _ever_!" Italy cheered, then skipped off, looking for someone to brag to about the complement.

Romano felt strong arms embrace him from behind and jumped.

"I didn't think I would see _you _here!" Came an overjoyed voice.

"Damn it, tomato bastard! Let GO!" Romano demanded.

"Aww! But I haven't seen you for _weeks_!" Spain whined, but let go of Romano anyhow.

"God... You're going to ruin my night with your clingyness..." Romano grumbled, when in reality, his mood had been lifted the second he found out Spain was there.

Spain pouted. "Don't be so mean, Lovi!" He whined, then took Romano's hand.

"What the Hell?!" Romano exclaimed in surprise.

"Relax! I'm just taking you over to the food!" Spain said cheerily.

"Oh..." Disappointment washed over Romano. Maybe, just maybe, he had been hoping for something else.

Spain gave him a glass of punch.

Romano took it. "Um... S-Spain?"

"Si?"

"W-what do you want to do...?"

Spain's eyes widened and his smile became broader and broader. "Really?!" He asked, but then his smiled faltered a little, and that happy look in his eyes was replaced with curiosity. "Why do you ask?"

"B-because... I'd like to hang out with you while I'm still here..." Romano mumbled.

"What? You mean you're leaving soon?"

"I guess it depends." Romano said.

"Oh. Then... How about we just chat?" Spain suggested.

"O-okay..."

"Yay!" Spain cheered. "Hey, America has a patio with some pretty comfortable looking chairs... Do you want to chat there?"

"Wherever you want to go. I don't give a shit." Romano mumbled.

Spain led Romano to the patio and had him sit down. There, they chatted about how well their crops were doing, they gossiped about the other countries, and they shared amusing stories for about an hour.

Spain yawned and stretched in the middle of one of Romano's stories.

"Am I boring you, 'Toni?" Romano asked, joking a bit.

Spain laughed. "Not at all! It's just getting a little bit late." He said.

"It's only nine..." Romano mumbled.

"Yeah. I've been going to bed early so I can wake up sooner to take care of my fields." Spain explained.

"Oh, I guess that's reasonable." Romano said.

"Hey, Lovi... Is something wrong? You really don't seem like yourself tonight." Spain said.

"I've been thinking about some things lately..." Romano said.

Spain tilted his head and furrowed his eyebrows, giving Romano a quizical look. "Like what?" He asked.

Romano looked Spain straight in the eyes, his seriousness almost shocked the older nation. Romano had only given him this look before a few times in his entire life, and each time he gave it, an extremely important question would follow.

"Antonio... What would you do... If I disappeared?" Romano asked, his gaze unfaultering.

Spain felt pure shock. He gasped. "Roma, what would ever bring you to ask such a question?!" He asked.

Romano stood up quickly, refusing to look at Spain. His face was a dark red. "F-forget about it! It was a stupid question, and it was obviously something I never should have brought up!" He said, then walked away quickly before Spain could respond.

Romano found his brother seconds later, then grabbed his shoulder and turned him toward him.

"I'm going home." Romano said, then let go of Italy's shoulder.

Italy looked very disappointed, but nodded. "Okay... I'll see you in a while, then." He said. "You can take the car. Germany said he would drive me home."

Romano nodded, then walked off.

"Call me if you need anything!" Italy called after him.

"Italy!" Spain called, grabbing his arm.

Italy smiled. "Big brother Spain! I haven't seen you in a while!" He said.

"I know. I'm sorry about that. But did Romano come through here?" Spain asked.

"Huh? Why do you ask?" Italy asked, raising a suspicious eyebrow.

"I think your brother is in trouble." Spain said quietly.

Italy's face paled. "The mafia?" He whispered.

"No, no! Nothing like that!" Spain said.

Italy let out a sigh of relief. "What is it, then?" He asked.

"I think Romano is in trouble with himself." Spain said.

"Oh." Italy asked, seeming to get angry. "I think I get it..."

"You do?! Great! You can help me out, come on! We have to get him before he leaves!" Spain said, taking Italy by the arm and trying to drag him along.

"Absolutely _not_!" Italy protested.

"What...?" Spain asked.

"I bet this is your fault!" Italy growled.

"What?!" Spain asked.

"Romano must have finally summed up the courage to ask you out, and you must have turned him down!" Italy snapped.

"Roma... Likes me like _that_?" Spain asked himself aloud.

"He's probably crying right now! I'll bet you that he's thinking that nobody loves him!" Italy said, tearing up over his big brother.

"Feli, that's not-"

"Don't even try to defend yourself, you bastard!" Italy snapped.

Spain's eyes widened with surprise at Italy's choice of words. "Italy, that's not what happened!" He said.

"Then what _did _happen?!" Italy growled.

"We were outside, chatting, when Roma asked me a question. He ran off before I could answer him, though." Spain explained.

"And what, exactly, was this question?" Italy asked, crossing his arms and sneering a little.

"He asked me what I would do... If he ever vanished." Spain said, only seriousness in his tone.

Italy's arms dropped to his sides. His sneer was gone. "Did he really say that?" Italy asked.

Spain nodded.

Italy turned around and told Germany that he was leaving, then told him why.

Germany, though it was thought that he didn't even like Romano, seemed shocked and asked if he could come along to help.

After thinking about it for a few seconds, Italy agreed, and they all ran out the door and got into Spain's car, hoping to catch up to Romano.

/ / /

_'Home...' _Romano thought as he got out of the car. He slowly made his way up the steps and went inside.

The familiar scent of tomato sauce and garlic hit him, and he felt a little bit better.

He walked into the kitchen and grabbed the cup containing his poisonous concoction. You could imagine his surprise when he found out that the liquid hadn't eaten through the cup, though the paint was damaged badly.

He walked upstairs, to his bedroom. He sat on the edge of his bed, then just stared down at the strong-smelling liquid inside the ceramic container.

"It'll be better for everyone." Romano mumbled aloud, trying to keep himself convinced, then brought the cup to his lips.

Before he could take a sip, however, his cellphone rang.

Romano put the cup inbetween his legs, then checked the caller ID.

_Spain..._

He answered it on the fourth ring.

"Hello?"

_"Lovino! It's Italy!"_

"_Fratello_?"

_"Si!"_

Romano could hear sobbing on the other end.

"What's wrong?"

_"You! Lovino, whatever it is you're trying to do, don't do it!"_

Lovino cursed inwardly, then decided to play dumb to get his brother off his tail.

"What the Hell are you talking about?"

_"Huh?"_

"I'm not doing _anything_, _idiota_!"

_"B-but Spain said-"_

"Spain doesn't know shit, okay?! I came home because I was sick of being at a stupid social event."

_"Then why did you ask him such a weird question?"_

"What question?!"

_"The 'what would he do you vanished' question!"_

"That?! It's just been on my mind for a while for no real reason, and I wanted to know what he thought about it."

_"..."_

"Feli?"

_"Lovino... What are you doing right now?"_

"What?"

_"What. Are. You. Doing. Right. Now."_

_'Shit.' _Romano thought.

"I'm eating leftovers on the couch."

_"..."_

"Italy?"

_"We're coming over right now, Lovino."_

_**Click.**_

_"Damn him and his stupid mafia skills!"_ Romano thought angrily.

He stared down at his poison for a few seconds, then, without a second thought, he lifted it to his lips and downed the burning liquid as quickly as he could.


	2. Too Late?

"He just lied to me." Italy said the second he hung up. The anger and seriousness in his tone scared both Spain and Germany.

"How do you know?" Germany asked.

"I was a part of the Italian mafia, too, for a while. When you're one of them, you learn tricks like how to tell if someone's lying. You also learn how to pick a lock and get rid of a body, but neither of those are important right now." Italy said.

"What did he lie about?" Spain asked.

"I asked what he was doing, and he told me he was eating leftovers on the couch. There were no leftovers, and Lovino never eats after eight p.m." Italy said.

Germany stared at Italy in shock from the backseat.

"How much longer until we're at the house?" Italy asked.

"About... Five minutes." Spain said.

"You should've let _me _drive..." Italy mumbled.

"Last time I let you drive, you wrecked my car. If you wrecked the car again, we wouldn't be able to get to Romano on time." Spain said.

"Lovino told me I had gotten better, though..." Italy whined.

"I'm not letting you drive." Spain said.

Italy huffed, pouted, then crossed his arms, much like a small child would do.

"Italy, people do stupid things when they're mad. I have no doubt you would have crashed into something if I let you drive." Spain said.

"I know... I just want to be there before he does something stupid." Italy confessed.

Spain smiled a little. "Don't worry. I'm sure Lovi will be just fine."

Italy quickly wiped at his eyes and sniffled. "I don't wanna lose my big brother..."

/ / /

_I just made a horrible mistake._

Romano's concoction had scorched his throat so badly that it hurt to breathe. He felt like his stomach was eating itself, and he stood up and ran to the bathroom as fast as he could and vomited into the toilet.

_It's all for the best, it's all for the best, it's all for the best!_

To his horror, all that came out was blood.

A scream escaped his tortured throat and he threw up again.

Tears rushed out of his eyes like waterfalls, and sobs escaped from his mouth nonstop.

_No! No, no, no! God, it hurts like Hell!_

He couldn't stop vomiting. The smell of bile and blood together was awful.

_I don't want to die!_

Romano's vision was turning black at the edges. He fell onto his side and curled up in a ball, shaking and crying.

_Someone, please save me...!_

/ / /

The front door opened so fast and hard that it slammed against the wall, leaving a dent.

"I'll check the top floor. Germany, the main floor. Spain, you go downstairs." Italy commanded.

No one disagreed, and Spain went downstairs.

"Call ambulance. Now." Italy whispered.

Germany didn't question him and whipped out his phone.

Italy ran upstairs as fast as he could.

Italy already knew exactly where Romano would be. For a former mafia member, he was kind of predictable.

He checked Romano's bedroom, and, to his surprise, Romano wasn't there.

"Lovino...?" Italy called out quietly.

"... ly..." Came a faint voice.

"Lovino?!" Italy asked again, exiting the room and checking every other room down the hall.

"... e...lp..."

Italy put his hand on the doorknob to the bathroom and opened it a little.

A smell hit his nose. It was putrid and metallic. Italy knew this smell. It was impossible to forget.

Italy opened the door quickly, then froze at the sight before him. Tears flooded out of his eyes and he started sobbing uncontrollably. It was worse than he ever could have imagined.

Blood was all over the floor. Bloody fingerprints stained almost every surface. Italy tried his hardest not to look at the toilet. Romano was curled up in a ball on the floor next to the shower.

Italy walked over to him quickly, trying not to slip on the blood.

Trying his hardest not to scream, he grabbed his brother's hand and tried pulling him out of the bathroom... But he was too heavy.

"Mis... ta... ke..." Romano forced out.

"Don't talk, _fratello_! Please!" Italy begged. "GERMANY! HELP ME!" He yelled.

Someone heavy scrambled up the stairs quickly, as the noise he made suggested.

"Don... wa... na... d... ie...!" Romano choked, fresh tears spilling out of his eyes.

"You're not going to die!" Italy said.

Germany peered into the bathroom and gasped.

"Help me get him out of here!" Italy begged through sobs.

More footsteps could be heard coming up the stairs.

"Hurry! And close the door before Spain sees!" Italy begged.

Germany shut the bathroom door, then walked over to Romano, trying not to step in any blood. He picked the older Italian up as gently as he could, then walked back over to the door, Italy right on his heels.

"Italy? Germany? I'm hearing sirens! Where are you?! What happened?!" Spain asked.

Germany opened the bathroom door, and Spain screamed. He started crying and rushed over to them. He took Romano out of Germany's arms and cradled him, crying hard. He sank to his knees and moved his arms so that he was hugging him. He entwined his fingers with Romano's and rocked back and forth.

Germany looked away, then went dowstairs so he could direct the paramedics when they arrived. Italy followed.

"I love you, Lovi...! I love you so much, so please don't die!" Spain sobbed.

Romano weakly tightened his grip on Spain's hand, then slightly shook his head. "... don... ry..." He said.

"Why shouldn't I cry?! My favorite person in the whole world just tried to kill himself...!" Spain sobbed.

Paramedics rushed up the stairs. Spain didn't even know they had arrived.

The paramedics took Romano out of Spain's arms without a word and put him on a stretcher. Spain started freaking out and followed them down the stairs. Both Germany and Italy had to restrain him when they put Romano in an ambulance and drove off.

You can only imagine what they had to do when they arrived at the hospital and the doctor told them Romano was dead.

**/ / /**

**A/N: Hmmm? What might this feeling be? Is this what it feels like to be a complete asshole? It is! That's exactly what this feeling is! And, you know...? I like it. A **_**lot**_**.**

**Now... let's see, here... I'm a lazy girl. I'm going to be a little busy for a while, too. Oh, and let me think... Oh, yeah! I'm also a total jerk.**

**Now, I've been given a choice. I can continue this story, or I can end it here like the jerk I am. Hmmm... I must think about this...**

**I hope you have fun trying to figure out my next move, readers!**


End file.
